


Hopping and Skipping and Jumping

by MagicAndConstellations



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV Series)
Genre: Dave Lives AU, EMT Dave AU, Eudora Patch Lives AU, Fluff, I may live in Alabama but fuck incest rights, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Modern Dave AU, No Apocalypse AU, No Incest, Please God No Incest, Wholesome Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-04-06 10:45:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19061056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicAndConstellations/pseuds/MagicAndConstellations
Summary: Five neglects a mission and our favorite repressed gay single-handedly stops the end of days by being too nice.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> More coming soon!

Five Hargreeves was not positioned across the street from the Texas School Book Depository Building in downtown Dallas, Texas on November 22, 1963.

 

He was, instead, in A Shau Valley, Vietnam, on January 25, 1969.

 

His orders were clear. Terminate Alexander Katz. Five scribbled something in a book that certainly should not have been in 1969. He did not plan on carrying out his orders.

 

No one noticed the big blue tear through time and space. Those that did thought it was a bomb. They ducked at the sound. Guns fired. There was no time to question anything.

 

Alexander Katz did not die on January 25, 1969. He did not die on January 26th, 27th, or 28th either. He returned to the states in April of that same year.

 

Alexander Katz married Margaret White on May 10, 1983. The woman was younger than him, but only by six years, and she was well in her twenties.

 

It took a while for Margaret White-Katz to fall pregnant after her marriage, both her and her husband being the workaholics they are, but she did have one child, a boy, who was born June 26, 1988.

 

His name is David Katz.

 

Alexander looks at his family and feels love and blessed. But deep down...

 

He knows.

 

He shouldn’t have left Vietnam.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put that this was a multi-chapter fic but it posted as a one-shot. Well, there’s gonna be more than two chapters, I can tell you that lol. Happy pride to those who are celebrating!

Klaus sat up in the ambulance cackling. He couldn’t feel the pain from the defibrillator yet, but the rush of adrenaline that rocked his body from Dave restarting his heart thrilled him too much to think about it.

 

Dave didn’t seem to share the sentiment. He sat in the dark box of a vehicle, barely managing a shaky smile when Klaus turned to exclaim to him.

 

Klaus’ good mood soured. A face that beautiful shouldn’t have looked that tragic.

 

In his haze, Klaus reaches out his hands to the other man. The cloudiness at the edges of his vision began to recede. Dave let out a stuttering breath.

 

Klaus heard it. He started to hear the droning of the little TV built into the wall, too. It was fun! And he was still high! Hearing was great when he was tripping out of his mind!

 

Instead of indulging in the very warm and probably inevitably erotic hug that Klaus was offering him, Dave delicately took hold of Klaus’ wrist, clipping on the small device Klaus had worn many times to check his pulse and he still couldn’t remember what it was called. He pouted. Dave scoffed.

 

“You’re too skinny,” he commented, softly, grabbing his wrist a little tighter to demonstrate how far his thumb slid up his index finger.

 

“Maybe you just have big hands.”

 

Dave smiled. “Maybe.”

 

Were they having a moment? This was most certainly a moment, wasn’t it? At a loss, in a moment of panic, Klaus leaned forward. Dave pushed him back. Klaus pouted some more. It wasn’t like he blamed him, he was high, but still.

 

Dave gave Klaus’ hand a pacifying peck. Klaus grinned.

 

He turned his attention to the TV. Maybe something good was on. He and Dave could partake in some sort of movie date while his other EMT buddies got an incident report from the owner of the club Klaus kind-of-died in.

 

Wait, what the fuck?

 

“Oh shit, my dad died!”

 

Dave looked startled and sad. “Oh shit, Klaus, are you okay?”

 

“What do mean? I’m so much fucking better than okay! My dad died!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this idea of Patch and Dave being friends and bonding over their dumbass not-boyfriends and couldn’t get it out of my head so here you go. Also it’s been a minute since I watched the show, so idk the exact timeline, so this is probably wrong but whatever.

“I caught Diego doing some dumb shit again.”

 

Dave barked a laugh and handed Eudora a beer. “Let me guess. You didn’t arrest him?”

 

Eudora scowled. She went silent, staring at Dave’s table. Dave winced as he recognized the shame in her expression.

 

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to-“

 

“No,” Eudora sighed. “No, it’s alright.”

 

And just like that the good mood was gone. Great.

 

“He uh- he was at a crime scene where some gunmen were killed.” She waved a hand as Dave opened his mouth to ask a question. “We don’t know shit about it. We were there and they were all dead across the floor. I found Diego snooping around in his kink gear.”

 

Dave snorted. He’d never met Diego Hargreeves. He’d never so much as seen the man, but he’s seen pictures, and just imagining Diego in some weird ass dominatrix suit was enough to make him devolve into a fit of giggling.

 

“What about you,” Patch asks. “Have you seen Klaus recently?”

 

Dave felt his body sag. His mind went back to the day before. Back to Klaus, still-beautiful in the morning light despite his blue lips and stopped heart. Klaus in the back of his ambulance, reaching out to him, and how hard it was not to reach out too.

 

His hand was so cold when Dave had kissed it.

 

“Dave?” Patch looked concerned. Tragic and horrified and very concerned.

 

“He’s alive,” Dave replied, quickly. “That’s what matters. He’s alive.”

 

Eudora sighed, relief evident in the way her brow smoothed out. Dave knew the worry wasn’t just for Klaus, or even just for Dave, but also for Diego. Klaus and Diego were brothers even if they hadn’t spoken in years. If Klaus had died that morning just two days ago and Patch had only seen Diego just twelve hours after that, then either Diego didn’t know or was in too fragile a state to talk about it. Neither of them could decide which was worse.

 

“Did you have to revive him again?” she asked, breaking the silence with her soft voice.

 

Dave only nodded.

 

The weight of Eudora’s hand on his shoulder was comforting, grounding him and reminding him that Klaus was alive. Klaus was okay.

 

Dave didn’t want to make the night about him, though. He’d done that too many times, sobbing into his friend’s shoulder every time Klaus had hurt himself. Had hurt Dave.

 

And it had hurt Dave. Every time. Klaus, overdosed and dying in an alley, in a crack-house, in a meth lab, at a rave, at a club. Klaus beaten to shit and bleeding out on the side of the road, in a dumpster, at a stranger’s house. It made Dave sick. Klaus deserved better. He deserved the damn world. But all he got was a shit family and shit powers and an abusive father that, all together, convinced Klaus that drugs were all he had and all he could trust.

 

Dave didn’t want to think about that right now.

 

“Do you have any leads in the case?” Dave asked. “A bunch of dead gunmen. That’s fuckin’ weird, right?”

 

Eudora shook her head. “We had two witnesses, a mechanic and some kid. We can’t find the kid and the mechanic was found dead last night. He was murdered in his own damn garage.”

 

Eudora shook her head, brow creasing again, and took a long sip of her drink, hand wrapped so tightly against the neck of the bottle that her knuckles turned white.

 

“I don’t know how much about this case I should be telling you, but there are these masked killers, right? They killed that mechanic, and I was talking to Diego last night, right? And apparently they broke into his dad’s house yesterday and killed his mom. And now one of his brothers is missing, or something.”

 

Dave didn’t mean to, he really didn’t, but at the mention of Diego’s brother going missing, he let out a distressed noise.

 

He glanced at Eudora, hoping she hadn’t heard.

 

“Do you think they have your boy?” Eudora had heard him. Great.

 

Dave shrugged. “I think I’m just worried.”

 

Eudora threw her head back with her drink and chugged it before slamming it down on the table. “Fuck it. Let’s go,” she growls.

 

“What?”

 

“We-“ Eudora gestures at Dave, and then herself as she pulls on her jacket and grabs her badge from Dave’s countertop. “-are going to find those psychopaths, and we are going to save Diego’s brother.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was simultaneously the most fun to write and the most tedious to write. But I love Patch so much and there’s hints of the Dave/Klaus backstory. But there will be more of the backstory in the next chapter ;)

The night air was cold and crisp. If Patch hadn’t had that drink, she’d be shivering. She wasn’t drunk by any means, she didn’t even feel a buzz, but the alcohol had warmed her blood.

 

Well, not literally. Patch was reminded of technical science behind alcohol dulling the sensation of feeling cold that Dave liked to drill into her head.

 

Dave didn’t even drink. Patch knew for a fact that the beers he kept in his apartment were for her. They were even her favorite brand.

 

Dave would be a fruity margarita guy anyways.

 

“Where do we even start?” Dave whispered.

 

Patch knew where to start. Near the Hargreeves mansion. If they wanted the late Reginald’s money, kidnapping a brother as ransom could be a good start.

 

Dave was as over cautious and anxious as ever. He didn’t take well to walking through the city in the middle of the night. Patch had a hunch that the only thing pulling him along was concern for Klaus.

 

Patch couldn’t judge, of course. She knew what it was like to fall in love with a Hargreeves. How their quirks stuck in your mind and clasped your heart like a vice.

 

It was better for Dave to come along, anyways. They didn’t know what state Diego’s brother would be in when they got there. A medical first-responder was the best thing they could have right then.

 

Dave was the one who saw it first. The van with “your brother says hi” scribbled on the dirty windshield.

 

“Look!” he whispered fervently, pointing to it.

 

“Oh, wow, they really went all out.” Patch walked up to it, observing the grooves left where the gliding finger had stopped to move on to the next letter. “Well, they left their fingerprints.”

 

She didn’t know how useful they would be, though. The prints left at the scene at Griddy’s led to nowhere, and even if there was no evidence that these masked killers where involved there, they still could be.

 

The motel wasn’t helpful. Disgust clenched in Patch’s stomach when she thought of the criminals this place housed. How many people too twisted to be considered human that boy at the front desk had protected with the same words he told Patch.

 

“What are we gonna do now?” Dave was frantic again, closing a hand tight around Patch’s jacket.

 

She sighs, resigned. “Just wait here.”

 

“What? Why? Where are you going?”

 

Dave’s fear of being left alone in the lobby of the shady motel, at the moment, was annoying, but fuck if the sentiment wasn’t shared.

 

Dave was probably used to the safety of being tucked up in an ambulance where the most dangerous people he meets are half dead and incapacitated.

 

“Relax, Dave, just breathe, okay?”

 

Dave complied, taking deep, stuttering breathes.

 

Patch was momentarily hit with the question of how this man handled a job as stressful as he did before she remembered that the man held captive by the two masked killers could be Klaus.

 

“I need to call Diego. He’s the only person who can help right now. I’ll be right back.”

 

Dave blinked back at her anxiously, but conceded.

 

Patch more than wished she had her cellphone on her. Granted, Diego never had his either, but it would be great if she could leave him a message. It would also be great if Patch could do things like memorize people’s numbers.

 

Diego couldn’t be reached, but he’d get the message from his landlord eventually. Patch sighed.

 

“You look upset,” Dave comments as Patch sits next to him on the crusty chairs that felt like they were just shy of being damp.

 

“I couldn’t get ahold of Diego.”

 

Dave frowned. He looked away from Patch in the way she knew meant that he was tearing up. Guilt rose in her chest before a voice that sounded oddly like Diego reminded her that feeling guilty for doing what she thought was right was pointless. Dave had emotions that he couldn’t control and had to deal with and that didn’t have to impact Patch’s decisions.

 

But Patch didn’t know if waiting was the right thing. She didn’t know if whoever those psychos had was alive or dead. She didn’t know how much time he had left if he was alive. Every second suffocated her.

 

But she waited. Thirty minutes. An hour.

 

God, where was Diego?

 

“I’m looking for them.”

 

“What?” Dave looked up at Patch as she stood.

 

“I don’t know when Diego’s gonna get here if he’s gonna get here. I don’t even know if he cares. I’m going.”

 

“Wait-“ Dave stopped himself mid-thought. Patch knew he was agreeing with her. She could feel the hesitation of Dave reminding her why she left Diego in the first place. Why this was a bad idea.

 

But he knew as well as she did how dire the situation was. How much danger this man could be in.

 

“Just stay here,” she told him, gently. “If you put yourself in danger, you won’t be able to help anyone.”

 

Patch went looking through hallways. Most rooms were empty. She cursed herself at not being able to find any evidence at any door of the masked killers. A life could be in danger and all Patch could see were lines and lines of doors.

 

Until she heard it.

 

A rhythmic thumping coming from one of the rooms. A maid stood outside the door as well, seeming concerned and scared. Patch flashed her badge and the woman handed her a key.

 

She entered the room carefully to see a man tied up in a chair. He was slumped over a table, muffled muttering clueing Patch in on the tape over his mouth. He was scrawny and Patch could tell he was pale even in the dark. Unruly curls curtained his eyes from her and she realized with a shock that this must be Klaus. Dave had recited more than enough poetry on those curls for Patch to know the exact color they shone in the sunlight, in the moonlight, under neon lights, in the warm lighting of Dave’s apartment, etc.

 

Patch was suddenly startled out of her thoughts by a loud metallic sound coming from close-by. Klaus flinched; he must have heard it too. Patch scurried over to where Klaus was tied up in the chair, formulating a plan in her head. She’d untie Klaus, grab him, help him escape, and deposit him into Dave’s arms where he’ll, hopefully, do something about the bleeding wounds Patch could see.

 

Movement from the other side of the room caught her attention. A man walked out of the bathroom, something glinting in his hand.

 

It was a gun.

 

Patch pulled herself up quick, whipping out her own handgun and aiming it at the man. “Police! Drop the weapon!”

 

The man looked at her, surprised, before slowly kneeling to the ground, one hand behind his head, the other lowering the gun to the ground. “Okay!” he was saying. “Okay!”

 

Patch slowly moved towards the man, gun still trained on him. He held his hands behind his head once his own gun was safely on the ground. Patch kicked it away and cuffed him. After sitting the man on the bed she sighed. One down.

 

Then she heard footsteps behind her.

 

She turned around, raising her gun once more, before recognizing Dave mid-step, staring back at her. She lowered her gun.

 

“Dave, what the hell are you doing in here?”

 

Dave smiled through the anxiety that was causing him to shiver and held up a handgun and a metal pipe. “I found your other killer,” he whispered.

 

Patch was stunned. Dave was her friend. She adored him, but if you’d have told her yesterday that her friend, Dave Katz, would knock a murderer unconscious and steal their gun, she’d tell you “no, he’d be too terrified”.

 

Dave raised an eyebrow, as if he could read her thoughts. “I did learn a thing or two from my dad.”

 

Dave’s dad, the Vietnam War vet. Damn.

 

Klaus then whimpered through the tape over his mouth. Dave, now snapped out of the rush he felt after knocking a killer out, rushed to Klaus’ side, dropping to his knees in front of him and cradling his face in his hands.

 

“What did you do with my friend?” the man handcuffed on the bed asked, his voice giving nothing away.

 

Dave looked over at him, wrapping his arms around Klaus as Klaus had flinched at the sound of the man’s voice. Dave then looked at Patch. Patch nodded.

 

“I knocked her out and took her gun. She had handcuffs so I cuffed her to a pole and threw away the key.” The man opened his mouth to say something. “Both keys,” Dave interrupts.

 

The man nods and goes back to staring at a wall.

 

Dave shifted away front Klaus, likely moving to untie him, but Klaus cried out when Dave was no longer touching him, and Dave was quick to wrap him into another hug. “Eudora, can you-?”

 

Patch nodded before Dave finished. The ropes around Klaus’ wrists were so tight that the rope burn was bleeding. Now that Patch was closer, she could see bruises. They were deep and dark on his back and around his neck. He was wearing nothing but a towel. His blood was soaking Dave’s shirt.

 

Klaus rubbed at his wrists when they were freed and ripped the duct tape off his face. The pain didn’t seem to faze him.

 

He returned Dave’s hug just as tight. “Missed you,” he whispered into his neck. Dave released a single quiet sob and held Klaus tighter, lifting him off the chair.

 

Patch raised her gun again at the sound of running footsteps.

 

“I’m here!” Diego burst into the room. “I’m here.”

 

“Wow, Diego, good job! You only missed everything!” Klaus grumbled from Dave’s arms and grinned when Diego looked over at him.

 

“You!” Diego snarled, and Patch reflexively raised her gun as he turned his attention to Klaus. “What the hell is wrong with you? The house got shot up yesterday and you up and leave? And let yourself get kidnapped? You’re damn lucky Patch found you, and you wasted her night!”

 

“Now hold on, Diego, I went looking for him myself because you said your brother was missing, so if anyone wasted my night, it was you!”

 

Diego sighed. “Shit, I-“ he ran a hand across his face. “I was talking about my other brother.”

 

Patch stilled. “You what?”

 

“My brother, Five,” he said. “The one who was missing and came back, remember?”

 

Patch tensed with anger. “Klaus.”

 

Klaus hummed.

 

“Where were you when you were abducted?”

 

“At the house,” he answered. “I had just gotten out of the bath.”

 

“So let me get this straight,” Patch glared at Diego. “Your house was shot up and your mom was killed-“ Guilt settles in Patch’s chest once again as she heard Klaus make a shocked sound “-and you don’t think to ask yourself ‘should I make sure the rest of my family is accounted for?’”

 

Diego flinched, but didn’t protest.

 

“Wow,” Patch snarled at him. “After all that fuss yesterday about how angry you are that they messed with your family, and you don’t even realize one of them could be in danger?”

 

“Five was missing too and Klaus always disappears!” Diego protested.

 

Patch reeled back in shock. “Diego, your house had just been shot up.”

 

Diego gave up, throwing his hands up in defeat. The blatant show of annoyance made Patch even angrier. Almost as angry as the realization that he only felt bad about the situation because Patch was involved. That he was embarrassed that Patch was involved.

 

“So here’s what we do,” Patch started. “I’ll go home and pretend I wasn’t here. Diego can make sure our murderer doesn’t fuck off to kill more people and he can leave an anonymous tip to the police. Dave can take Klaus home and make sure he doesn’t bleed to death.”

 

Dave smiled and Diego gave her a curt nod. Klaus grinned at her, looking tired and loopy. She looked over at the man on the bed. “How does that sound?” He said nothing.

 

Patch felt betrayed. She didn’t know why. Diego didn’t betray her. She got herself in this situation, but she’d really thought better of the man. She was angry and upset by the scene he made in the motel room. She felt almost repulsed when Diego hovered next to her.

 

“Felt good to do things my way, didn’t it?”

 

Her anger bubbled over.

 

“Get the fuck away from me, you piece of shit! You don’t deserve my time!”

 

Diego looked shocked.

 

“Oh, oh no, is that really how it is?” Klaus’ shame-laced voice made Patch’s heart churn. “He’s right, Patch, he really is. I do always leave. This is my fault! Stupid Klaus!”

 

“No it’s not,” Patch bit out. “Your house was shot up.”

 

Fuck it. If Diego wasn’t going to help Klaus then Patch and Dave would. Fuck, she understood Dave’s constant need to help this man now.

 

Jesus, the Hargreeves siblings are a fucking mess.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came out a little angstier than planned. But here’s your Klaus/Dave backstory I guess! I know the togs say wholesome romance, but I meant it more in the Vanya/Helen plot line. The Klave is gonna have some obstacles, but it will improve and their relationship will end up a lot happier and healthier, I promise.

Klaus was limp in Dave’s arms as they reached Dave’s apartment. The dim light of dawn was peaking over the horizon. The door was locked.

 

“Shit!” Dave hissed under his breath.

 

As he tried his best to shift the still sleeping Klaus to one arm, the sound of a door opening caught his attention. Dave looked up and prayed it wasn’t Mrs. Jones who was, while a sweet old woman, very loud and nosy, a combination of things that no one needed right then.

 

It was Helen, leaving her apartment with her violin case in hand. She gave him a reproachful look. It was a little intense. A little questioning. But Dave knew better than to think she was judging him.

 

“Helen!” he called in a whisper. “Helen, thank god!”

 

Helen stepped closer and tipped her head towards him, a silent question she’d asked so many times in so many similar situations.

 

“Unlock my door for me, please?”

 

Helen nodded and unclipped Dave’s keys from his belt loop.

 

“Holy fuck, what happened to him?” she asked him as she caught sight of Klaus.

 

“Someone broke into his dad’s house and snatched him.” Helen huffed.

 

“Shit.”

 

“Yeah. They killed his mom, too.”

 

Helen dropped the keys. “Shit!” Her hands went to her hair, pulling at it. “Shit shit shit shit fuck! What the fuck is wrong with me?”

 

Helen was expressive; some would say in the worst way. She was abrasive and narcissistic and acted like nothing bothered her. When something did get to her though, which wasn’t at all often, she reacted in anger.

 

Helen was the kind of person who laughed at a funeral. She didn’t care about tragedies. She could witness something inexplicably horrible right outside her door and as long as it didn’t affect her directly, she didn’t care. Dave wondered why she was freaking out like this over the death of some random woman.

 

“Are you okay?” Dave managed, still at a loss.

 

“No!” Helen snapped. “I’m not fucking okay. I’m just- god, I’m such an asshole! I was such a piece of shit to Vanya! And one the day her dad died too! And right after her mom died! What the fuck is wrong with me?”

 

Helen stumbled as she leaned down to grab Dave’s keys. Dave shifted Klaus a little to offer his elbow as support. She didn’t take it.

 

“Vanya’s Klaus’ sister, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Helen sighed. “She is.”

 

She unlocked his door, twisted the knob open, and plonked the keys on Klaus’ stomach. Klaus twitched and buried his face into Dave’s chest.

 

“Make sure he doesn’t die,” Helen said over her shoulder as she walked away.

 

“And a little compliment can go a long way!” Dave called back.

 

Dave pushed the door open wider with his hip. He looked down to see Klaus’ eyes, glazed over with exhaustion and pain, looking up at him. He smiled and held Dave’s keys up.

 

“These are cold.” He giggled and let his hand drop, lying back in Dave’s arms again.

 

Dave laid him gently on the couch. Klaus didn’t protest, he only sighed and closed his eyes.

 

“Don’t you fall asleep yet,” Dave reprimanded, pointing a teasing finger. “I gotta patch you up, and then you’re gonna eat something!”

 

Klaus stares up Dave with an unreadable expression as the cuts on his chest and shoulders were were disinfected and wrapped in bandages. Dave caught sight of the ring of bruises around Klaus’ neck. They were still fresh and light blue, but Dave knew they’d darken and likely wouldn’t fade for a while.

 

“They choked me out!” Klaus exclaimed cheerfully grinning up at Dave. “Had a whole garrote and everything! It was really hot, actually.”

 

Dave’s movements stuttered. “Klaus.”

 

“What? It’s true! Torture’s not all it’s cracked up to be! It wasn’t even bad until they destroyed my drugs and my high wore off!”

 

The image of Klaus bruised and bleeding, finally being bombarded with both the pain of being tortured and the screams of ghosts wormed it’s way into Dave’s thoughts and latched on. “Klaus, please-“

 

“And then they locked me in the closet!” Klaus’ demeanor changed. The cheerful attitude fell into a frown. Dave knew that frown so well from nights bundled up in Dave’s blankets when his highs left him after Dave found him shivering on another street corner, when Klaus whispered horror stories about daddy locking him up in enclosed spaces where the ghosts didn’t stop screaming.

 

“I-I didn’t like it, Dave,” Klaus whimpered. Dave gripped his hands. “I felt so trapped. They wouldn’t shut up, Dave. They wouldn’t shut up and I just wanted you, Dave, I-“

 

Klaus dissolved into sobs. Dave held him through it, trying not to think about how Klaus learned to cry so silently.

 

“I’m here now, Klaus, it’s okay. They can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let them.”

 

Klaus sniffed and pulled himself from Dave’s grip. He looked Dave straight in the face. “Why do you keep doing this?”

 

“What?”

 

“You’re always helping me. You always drop everything to make sure I’m okay, and I always make everything worse for myself. Can’t you see I’m hopeless?”

 

Dave could see that Klaus really believed what he was saying. See that Klaus thought he could make Dave believe it too. Dave wanted to hurt everyone that ever made Klaus feel like that.

 

Well, not hurt them. Maybe give them a stern talking to.

 

Dave brushed Klaus’ hair back from his face. “Remember that one night? God, it must be two years ago now.”

 

Klaus’ brow furrowed in confusion. “Remind me, babe? Drugs aren’t all that great on the memories.” He held a hand to his head and spun a circle with his finger, the universal sign for crazy.

 

Dave did his best to huff a laugh, even if the comment killed him to hear. “Wasn’t long after you got out of rehab the third time. I got into a tight spot on my way home.”

 

Klaus’ eyes widened and wordlessly mouthed “oh”. He tilted his head back and laughed. “I remember that! You were getting mugged!”

 

“I couldn’t fight back. He had a gun. You knew him.”

 

“I met him through an acquaintance at a rave. I wouldn’t call that knowing him-“

 

“You found me. Tried to talk him out of it.”

 

“Yeah. Even if you gave him what he wanted, I wouldn’t put it past that asshole to shoot you anyways. He was kinda unhinged. More so even than moi.”

 

“You snatched his gun and threw it. Told me to run.”

 

“You did. You came back though, with that police lady-“ Klaus frowned. “Patch, that’s her name. Trent was halfway back to his gun and she jumped on him.”

 

Dave ran a hand through Klaus’ hair. “ I’m surprised you even remember that. You were beaten up pretty bad.”

 

“You brought me home and patched me up real good.”

 

Dave nodded. “I asked you why you saved me, and you looked at me and you said ‘I love you, duh.’”

 

Klaus laughed. “And that’s a direct quote, too! I did say that! And I asked why you came back for me and you said you loved me too!”

 

Dave smiled at him. It shouldn’t be a fond memory, but he couldn’t help but feel warm. “Yup. There it is. I love you, Klaus. I’m always here because I care about you and I want you to be okay and I love you.”

 

“And we never talked about it again.”

 

“But, why?”

 

Klaus looked at him, incredulous, and he really did look beautiful in the light of Dave’s lamp. His hair took a honey undertone and the shadows on his face made him look mysterious and soft. Dave loved him so much. “Well, Dave,” he said. “You only ever see me when something simply terrible has happened.” He let his head fall back dramatically at the word “terrible”. “That’s not good. You know it’s not.”

 

Dave did know. He knew it wasn’t healthy. Klaus wasn’t his responsibility and most people would tell Dave to just let him go. Live his life.

 

But Dave didn’t care. He wasn’t going to stand by and let Klaus die like this. He’d be there, and he’d be there for anything. Any time.

 

“I don’t care,” he said, and he meant it.

 

Klaus looked away for a moment. “I think you said something about feeding me.”

 

Dave forced another laugh.

 

Klaus was gone before Dave woke up. He didn’t know why he expected any different.

 

Dave woke late in the afternoon. He sighed, knowing his sleep schedule was now fucked to hell and he might as well just give up on life.

 

He dismissed the thought with a shake of his head and decided he might as well do some chores.

 

He took the trash out, going around the building to the dumpster. He heard a noise and flinched.

 

Dave cautiously turned the corner to see a man in the alley. He gripped his keys, ready to use them as a weapon if he really needed to. “Who are you?”

 

The man whipped around to face him. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “I’m so sorry! I’m Leonard! So sorry, I just thought I saw a stray cat!”

 

Dave doubted it. The man seemed a little too frantic and he was a little too close to Helen’s windows. The large duffel he was carrying didn’t help.

 

“Leonard, huh?”

 

“Uh-Yeah! Leonard Peabody! Nice to meet you.”

 

He offered a hand. Dave didn’t take it. “Cool,” Dave said. “Well, this place is private property, so be careful next time you stop by, cause someone might have the mind to call the police.”

 

It was a threat more than it was a warning. If Leonard caught it, he didn’t comment on it. “Ok, well, thanks! Again, so sorry.”

 

“Yeah, it’s cool, man.”

 

Leonard left. Dave still followed him a few blocks, just in case.

 

He hurried back to his apartment, half afraid Leonard would get there first and half-expecting to catch the other man following him.

 

Dave didn’t feel relieved until he knocked on Helen’s door and she answered.

 

“Uh? What are you doing here?”

 

“Sorry to bother you,” Dave was breathless, and by her scowl, he knew Helen could tell. “There was this guy creeping by your kitchen windows. Lock them for the next few weeks. I don’t know if he’ll come back, but if he does, remember, his name’s Leonard Peabody.”

 

Helen, to her credit, looked a little shaken. “You’re sure he was creeping?”

 

“Well, he said he saw a cat or something. But he seemed suspicious. I just don’t trust him, Helen.”

 

Helen bit her lip. “I talked to Vanya, today. I think she mentioned she had a student named Leonard. She has a thing for him.”

 

“It might not be the same Leonard, but ask her if it is.”

 

Helen nodded. “I will.”

 

“Be safe!” Dave said as he turned to leave.

 

“Yeah, you too.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s your Vanya/Helen with a side of broken bones! Klaus POV next so be on the lookout!

The conversation with Helen yesterday was a... surprise.

 

She’d stopped her right before she left practice. “Hey, Vanya!” she’d said. “I’m so sorry about what I said!” she’d said. “Let me make it up to you!” she’d said.

 

Vanya didn’t know what compelled her to say yes. Helen had been pretty rude. Nothing had warranted her behavior. And Vanya’s therapist had told her that she didn’t have to forgive people who had wronged her, and Leonard had only reinforced that notion.

 

Vanya smiled at the thought of Leonard. He’d somehow known what to say and how to say it and how to make Vanya feel her best and how to make her happy. She didn’t care what Allison said or did. Leonard was good and wonderful and perfect for Vanya.

 

Despite how infatuated Vanya was with Leonard, doubt creeped inside her mind. The sneaking suspicion that Allison was right, the strange behavior Leonard sometimes showed, and the fact that she’d only known him for a few days made her irrevocable faith in him irrational at best.

 

A knock at her door sounded and Vanya went to open it. “Hey,” Helen said, sounding uncomfortable and honest and unsure and everything Vanya thought she wasn’t.

 

Vanya’s doubts about Helen’s intentions flew out of her mind. When Helen had spoken to her, Vanya had been floored by how genuine she was. She was touched about Helen’s concern for her after she’d heard about what happened to her parents and her concern for Klaus, who was apparently tortured after the House was attacked and no one told her about that.

 

Helen had even suggested talking to Klaus and making him feel better, because if his family didn’t know, then he didn’t have anyone in his corner to help him and he’d turn to dangerous habits.

 

And wow was Helen smart.

 

Vanya’s positive feelings about Helen were washed away after a conversation with Leonard, who’d warned her against getting friendly with Helen. “You don’t know her intentions.” he’d said. “She could be using you.” he’d said. “Don’t let her bring you down more.” he’d said.

 

Maybe he was right. Helen had gotten all this information, apparently, from her neighbor, who was also, apparently, and friend of Klaus, and Helen couldn’t prove any of that.

 

But Vanya figured she could go against Leonard for once. He wasn’t there when Helen had spoken to Vanya, so he probably didn’t have the full story. Vanya must have left it out. Her therapist also told her that holding on to anger wasn’t healthy, and being petty about a rude comment from a coworker wasn’t rational.

 

They sat in Vanya’s living room. They had agreed on a meal, but Vanya didn’t have one prepared. Should she have cooked beforehand? Should she have picked food up? Shit, she was already fucking this friendship with Helen up, wasn’t she?

 

Helen cleared her throat. “So, I was thinking we could practice that piece you were having trouble with?”

 

Vanya was grateful for the matching anxiety that Helen seemed to be feeling.

 

Helen’s playing was as beautiful as ever. Vanya felt herself be carried away by the music. Every note soothes her, and she failed to understand how Helen could make sounds like that and make it seem so easy.

 

But then it wasn’t just the music.

 

It was the furrow in her brow as the music swept her away as well. It was the way her lips parted to take a breath and the way she looked so serene and peaceful, like they were away in their own little dimension, where nothing else mattered, or even existed.

 

Her next thought was that Helen was beautiful.

 

The thought made her feel guilty. Her budding relationship with Leonard complicated things, and she and Helen were barely friends.

 

It was fine.

 

Helen could be beautiful. Vanya could think she was beautiful. It was just a thing that was. It didn’t have to affect their relationship in any way. A lot of people were beautiful.

 

“Ok!” Oh. Had Helen finished already. “Now you try.”

 

So Vanya did.

 

She felt nothing at first. The same nervousness she felt when she had attention on her. The same feeling of the bow gliding across the strings.

 

Until she felt Helen shift beside her.

 

Her thoughts went to how beautiful Helen was when she was playing. How cute the lines of concentration in her face was. How obvious her passion for playing was.

 

Vanya was uplifted. The music she heard herself making made her feel euphoric. It felt like she was weaving a web in the air that got bigger and bigger, reaching out until it touched every molecule, getting louder and louder until the sound felt like her own body, and she was dancing around the room more gracefully than any of her siblings ever could.

 

It felt like it was over too soon.

 

“How come you don’t always play like that!” Helen’s exclamation startled Vanya out of her daze.

 

“Oh, was this different?”

 

“Yes!” Helen grabbed on to Vanya’s shoulders. “You were good before but there was never any, like, feeling, you know? It sounded like you were just playing, and yeah that’s great and all but when you play you have to feel it!” Helen took a breath and let go of her. “That’s why I said the things I said. I was trying to encourage you. If passion can’t spur you along, maybe anger can, you know?”

 

Vanya was taken aback.

 

Helen was rude, yes. She was mean and douchey and an asshole.

 

But she had done it to help Vanya? She had wanted to help Vanya realize her talent and potential?

 

It may have been a niche way to do it, but hell, it was an attempt.

 

“I- I guess I was holding myself back. I don’t know. Ever since I got off my meds everything just felt better, like I could feel everything better.”

 

Helen gave her a look. “Oh,” she said. “That’s weird. What were the meds for?”

 

“Uh, I don’t know.” Helen gave her the look harder. “Um, I’ve been taking it for a while, since I was really little,” she rambled. “I don’t know, I think it was for anxiety or something-“

 

“Ok, ok,” Helen held her hands out. “I’m not judging it’s just... weird that you don’t know what your prescription’s for, that’s all.”

 

“Oh.”

 

They were silent for a moment. God this was so awkward.

 

“Hey, what’s that?”

 

Helen pointed to a lone black duffel bag on Vanya’s counter.

 

“Oh,” Vanya breathed, remembering how Leonard had brought it over last night. She hadn’t even noticed he’d left it. “Uh, one of my students,” she looked at Helen shyly. “Leonard.”

 

“You said his name was Leonard Peabody, right?”

 

Vanya didn’t think she told Helen Leonard’s last name when she’d talked to her about him, but maybe she did and just didn’t remember. She nodded anyways.

 

Helen nodded. Vanya noticed a different weird look had made its home across Helen’s face. It was darker, more focused. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about him,” she said.

 

Vanya felt her stomach drop.

 

“What?”

 

“My neighbor caught him snooping around our building. He was a little too close to my windows, apparently.”

 

The deep, gut-churning dread Vanya felt anytime Allison talked about Leonard was back.

 

“Well, you weren’t there. Your neighbor could have just been jumping to conclusions. Besides, if this is the same neighbor who’s friends with Klaus, I wouldn’t be all that trusting of him.”

 

And maybe Vanya was out of line in saying that. Dave was obviously someone Helen had known for a long time and trusted, but maybe Vanya was right. Maybe Leonard was good after all.

 

Or maybe Vanya was wrong.

 

Helen snapped her head around to look at her, a dangerous kind of beautiful with an accusing scowl and blazing eyes.

 

“Dave is fucking God compared to anyone else your brother has ever even looked at, including you! Do you know why he knew your parents died? Why he knew Klaus was tortured?”

 

Vanya shrunk back at Helen’s words.

 

“He was carrying Klaus, who was unconscious, by the way, naked and bleeding and beaten to shit in a towel and nothing else, so he could take care of him and make sure he didn’t die for fucks sake!”

 

Guilt and embarrassment clawed at Vanya’s chest. God, why couldn’t she have been there for Klaus? Why couldn’t she be useful?

 

“Do you know how many times Dave’s done that for him? Made sure your brother didn’t die so you could look at him and belittle him and everyone he knows and leave him to die in a ditch? Dave never gave up on him! He was there through every OD, every trip to rehab, every time he got the ever loving shit beat out of him, and where were you, huh?”

 

Vanya felt tears prick at her eyes. God, had Klaus actually overdosed that many times? Why hadn’t she ever thought about him? She knew he was into drugs from Diego but, god, was he actually living on the streets? What all had happened to him while Vanya had been looking the other way.

 

“You were writing fucking books about it! You were so obsessed with being ordinary, you couldn’t take the time to think about other people, including your siblings who could also have complex lives and who were also horribly abused by your father!”

 

Vanya could do nothing but burst into tears.

 

Helen went silent.

 

“Oh, shit. Vanya-“

 

“No.” Vanya held a hand out. “No you’re right.” She tried to smile, but failed miserably. “I think I treated all my siblings pretty unfairly. Writing that book felt good, it was good to get everything off my chest, believe me, but it wasn’t fair of me to write what I did about them, especially when I hadn’t seen them in years and especially when they had their own traumas and problems to deal with. I know Klaus does.”

 

Helen gave her a sad smile. “I’m sorry too. You had a lot of shit happen to you and your siblings were a part of that. Blaming them for your problems without considering theirs is wrong, but you shouldn’t feel responsible for them. Dave always puts Klaus’ shit on himself. It’s not good for him and Klaus always tries to keep him out of it as best as he can because he realizes how bad it is, but he can’t force Dave to stop caring about him, just like you can’t force yourself to deal with his responsibilities.”

 

“I care about Klaus,” Vanya said. “I didn’t know what he was going through, but even if I did, there isn’t much I can do about it while also caring for myself. I want to help him, but I can’t help him if he won’t help himself.”

 

“You don’t know how often I tell Dave that. He won’t listen to me.”

 

Vanya nodded. “And it isn’t fair of me to put Dave on blast because I feel loyal to Leonard. My sister’s suspicious of him too, and I have my doubts, but he makes me feel,” Vanya paused, looking for the right word. “Wanted.”

 

Helen nodded. “I get it, I do. But if you like this guy, you need to be sure about him.”

 

She got up and walked over to the counter where Leonard’s duffle was. Vanya got up quickly as she realized what Helen was about to do.

 

“Helen, wait, we can’t just go through his stuff!”

 

Helen shot her a placating smile. It worked a lot better than it should have. “I’m sure we won’t find anything.”

 

Vanya hopes not. But a tiny part of her, a part that thought Helen was the best a human being could get, hoped she would, just as an excuse to throw her sobbing body into Helen’s arms to be held. Vanya dismisses it as Helen rummaged through the bag.

 

“Uh, Vanya?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“What made you stop taking your meds?”

 

The feeling of dread was back, stronger than ever. “I lost them.”

 

Vanya knee what Helen was going to pull out of the bag before she did. It was an unassuming orange prescription pill bottle. Vanya took it and read the prescription over Just in case. In case Leonard hadn’t told her something about himself. In case he took meds that just hadn’t been worth mentioning.

 

Vanya Hargreeves

Take 1 as needed.

 

Vanya read the bottle over and over and over, trying to deny what she was seeing, but the words were there.

 

Maybe Leonard had found one of her bottles and had meant to return it, but forgot?

 

She rifled through the bag. Her second bottle was in there too.

 

There were three knives. One was small and sharp looking. One looked like a butcher knife. The last one looked like a little saw.

 

There was a rope and an extra change of clothes.

 

There was a leather-bound journal on the bottom of the bag, branded with the initials RH. She opened the book to a random page.

 

Subject #7

Sex: Female

Age: 2

#7 is far ahead of the others in developing her extraordinary abilities. She was able break shatter two glasses from across the room April 22, 198-

 

That’s was all Vanya could read before she was too overwhelmed to continue.

 

Vanya dropped the journal.

 

Leonard had stolen her meds.

 

Leonard had stolen her father’s journal.

 

Leonard was going to kill Helen.

 

She had powers.

 

Everything happened so fast, and before she knew, glass was breaking, and Helen was screaming.

 

“Oh my god!” Vanya exclaimed. “Oh my god, are you ok?”

 

Helen’s face was scrunched up with pain. “My wrist!”

 

Vanya took her to the hospital.

 

Her wrist was broken. It was a remarkably clean break. The doctors speculated the fracture went fully around the bone. A perfect circle.

 

She couldn’t play until the cast came off.

 

“I’m so, so sorry!”

 

“It wasn’t your fault.”

 

Helen had been quiet the entire hospital visit. Vanya had thought she was angry at her.

 

“Vanya, that man is dangerous.”

 

“I know.”

 

“He knows where both of us live.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Is there anywhere we could go where we’re safe?”

 

Vanya took her to the Academy.

 

“Who is this,” Five asked. “I’d expect Klaus to bring a stranger home, but certainly not you. What is she doing here?”

 

So Vanya told him everything. It felt good to get everything off her chest. Maybe she should talk to her family more often.

 

“Leonard Peabody, you said? I’ll look into it.”

 

Helen called Dave to warn him.

 

Vanya sank to the floor of her room and cried.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter took me six hours to write and it’s not even good. I didn’t even look over it properly. So don’t get mad at me for it sucking. Only I can get mad at me. I promise did Klaus super ooc cuz idk how to even begin writing him. Please be nice to me.

It was a rough night.

 

Well, not exactly. Not literally, anyways. Disregarding the day before it, the night itself was pretty nice. He was tended to and fed and given a place to sleep. On most nights that’s barely a dream.

 

It was rough on the feelings.

 

The way some situations, no matter how nice or harmless, cracked your heart and made you sad for days after.

 

He first felt this weird type of feelings-stuff after Ben died.

 

He’d be hanging out in a library or a bookstore or a particularly fancy shelter and see some book. A dumb nerdy book. And he’d know Ben would read it. It didn’t matter that Ben was right there beside him. It made him feel sick and he’d be quiet enough that anyone that had known him for more than five minutes would give him looks.

 

“I’m proud of you for going back to the Academy,” Ben told him, softly. Klaus ignored him.

 

Ben always said something like this when a run-in with Dave left him too guilty to turn to drugs for the next few hours or so until he couldn’t take it anymore.

 

Klaus didn’t know when the sad, sick feeling started with Dave, but it stuck. He knew he wouldn’t have it in him to touch anything for a little while.

 

Klaus made his way back to the mansion, stumbling all the while. It made sense. He hadn’t stood on his own for more than twenty-four hours.

 

Dave liked to cuddle. Particularly in his sleep. Even if he was far away on the other side of the bed- which he was that night, wanting to give Klaus his space but also too concerned to go and sleep on the couch- he would always end up holding Klaus too tightly for him the leave without risking waking Dave up. Klaus had to wait until Dave shifted in his sleep, loosening his grip enough for Klaus to leave quietly.

 

As Klaus stumbled around the apartment, not unlike a baby deer, he briefly wondered if he should have stayed with Dave another day or so. He dismissed the thought immediately.

 

Klaus got a lot of sideways looks, which made sense. He was still in a bloody towel. He’d stolen an army-green military style jacket from Dave, but still. It was a good thing that Dave lived near the Academy and it was early enough that he wasn’t walking around almost naked in broad daylight in crowded streets.

 

He stumbled again.

 

“Aw, fuck!”

 

“Klaus?” Ben called, concern tangible in his voice.

 

Klaus had, brilliantly, managed to take the brunt of the fall on the only cut those psychos gave him that needed stitches.

 

And, judging by the fact that it was now bleeding a lot more than when he first got it, he made the wound itself a lot worse, too.

 

He gritted his teeth and stood up. The Academy was only a block away. He’d be fine.

 

The place felt empty and huge. The early morning light had become brighter, filling the room with a distinct morning feeling that Klaus never got to enjoy as a child.

 

Klaus had been scrubbed clean last night. The memory of Dave running his stands through his hair and whispering reassurances into his ear every time he flinched from moving into painful angles just to get himself clean. But his posse of dead that were partial to the mansion were surrounding him, loudly screaming his name and demand he do something for them. He felt blood running down his stomach and his skin was crawling from where the dead were clawing at him.

 

He found himself in the bathtub. Sitting in the bleach-white tub in the bleach-white bathroom scrubbing himself with his hands was pretty depressing when less than three hours ago he was in Dave’s tub that was stained from water damage in his beige bathroom with warm, yellow lighting with Dave scrubbing at his hair and gently wiping him down with a soapy cloth.

 

The water in the tub was pink when it went down the drain. The floor was covered in spots of Klaus’ blood.

 

“I think you should go find Dave again.”

 

“You know I can’t do that, Ben.”

 

Klaus sat on his bed, only in a towel, his body angled so the blood dripped onto the floor instead of anywhere else, when he heard a knock at the door.

 

“Come in!” he called.

 

The door opened to reveal Five. He glanced at the floor, then at Klaus. “I followed the trail of blood,” he said as he opened the door wider to let himself in. “Diego told me what happened. How are you doing?”

 

Klaus looked down at the pool of blood that he left on the floor. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Five, but not that good. Who were those guys anyways?”

 

“Ah.” Five straightened himself up, strutting around Klaus’ room and observing the writing Klaus had left on the walls from the time he had spent in this room. “I’m afraid they were my coworkers. Emphasis on ‘were’.”

 

“What?”

 

Five sighed. “I worked for a time agency, Klaus. Remember? I’m trying to stop the apocalypse. They’re after me.”

 

“Yeah. No shit.”

 

Five was never an emotional person, which probably made the blank-slate, mildly constipated look on his face as he put a hand on Klaus’ shoulder as an attempt to be kind more funny than it was creepy. “I’m sorry you had to pay for my actions. I’m sorry no one noticed. And I’m sorry responsibility for the situation was thrust on you when someone did.”

 

“Oh.” Klaus could see a smile twitching onto Ben’s face from behind Five. It had been a long time since another sibling besides Ben showed any real concern for Klaus. He doubted they really even cared anymore, but then Five showed up, all full of surprises. He was grateful.

 

“I do have a question for you, though.”

 

Ah yes. The catch.

 

“Did you, by chance, see a briefcase where you were tortured?”

 

“A briefcase?”

 

“Yes. Vintage? Dark brown?”

 

“Uh, no. I don’t think so.”

 

Five scowled and cursed at the air, a little close to Ben. Klaus laughed to himself at the thought of Five cussing out Ben by accident.

 

“Mom’s been busying herself with cleaning up your blood, you know. You should go see her about that gash.”

 

Klaus perked up a little. “Mom?”

 

He left the room quickly after that, making his way down to all the places his mother could be. He felt ecstatic to hear her humming from the kitchen.

 

“Mom!”

 

“Yes, dear, I’ll make breakfast in a moment.”

 

Grace turned around and gave a start when she saw the state Klaus was in.

 

“Oh, Klaus! She exclaimed. “Breakfast can wait. We’re going to fix you up right away!”

 

Grace secured a bandage over the cut after she finished stitching it up.

 

“I’m glad you’re okay, Mom.”

 

Grace smiled. “I’m glad you’re okay too, Klaus.”

 

Vertigo suddenly hit Klaus as he was stalking up to his room and he was running to the bathroom.

 

Ben sat with him as he lost whatever food Dave had fed him. Ben sat next to him, asking if he was okay. The dead flicked around him.

 

Is there a specific word for a group of ghosts?

 

Klaus stumbled around his room, upturning pillows and blankets and chairs, and pulling drawers out of dressers. He knew he’d hid something around here.

 

Nothing.

 

He checked every cabinet he could for some painkillers or something, anything to hold him over.

 

Nothing.

 

He pulled on the doors to Dear Old Dad’s liquor cabinet.

 

Locked.

 

Klaus returned to his room and pulled on some clothes. He felt his stomach turn and threw up again.

 

“Klaus, no.”

 

“Shut up, Ben.”

 

Klaus felt someone pull him back by the back of his shirt before he could leave. He was too weak with exhaustion and withdrawal to do anything about it.

 

“Where are you going?” Diego’s stern voice sounded behind him. Klaus whined.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“Hey,” Diego dug a finger into his chest. “You’re staying the fuck here.”

 

“But whyyy?”

 

“Because Five told me you came back dripping blood on everything and barely able to walk. You’re staying.”

 

Klaus frowned as Diego led him over to the couch and plopped down with a sigh.

 

“You were the one who got rid of everything, weren’t you?”

 

Diego patted his back. “Mom helped.”

 

Klaus sighed.

 

“Hey, Klaus?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Who was that guy you went home with?”

 

Klaus giggled. “Woah there, cowboy, I did not fuck him. I wanted to, but-“

 

Diego’s face went from politely questioning to annoyed. “Gross, dude. You know what I meant.”

 

Klaus laughed. Diego slapped his shoulder.

 

“That was Dave.”

 

Something in Klaus’ face must have changed because Diego’s expression went soft. “Tell me about him?”

 

“He’s goddamn perfect,” Klaus sighed. “He’s so kind and strong and beautiful and vulnerable.” Klaus laid against the back of the couch. “Too damn good for me and he won’t even admit it.”

 

“He must really be something special if he puts up with your weird ass shit.”

 

“He really is.” Klaus closed his eyes tight against a wave of emotions. Or maybe that was nausea. “He’s the only person I’ve ever loved more than myself.”

 

They were silent for a moment. “You know,” Diego started.

 

Klaus turned to look at him.

 

“I feel the same way about Patch.” Diego gave him a small, awkward smile. “She’s always been so kind and patient and smart, and me?” Diego shook his head. “I was just basking in her light.”

 

“Yeah,” Klaus hummed. “Dave is so sweet. And so fucking hot. How can an actual angel have such low standards?”

 

Diego laughed. “Patch was smart enough to dump my ass to the curb but she still cares, and sometimes it feels like she’s still holding the torch for me.”

 

It was nice to have this conversation with Diego. It made him feel a little better. He could forget about his situation for the moment.

 

But it was just for that moment.

 

He was still stone-cold sober.

 

He didn’t sleep that night. Grace had force-fed him enough so that he wasn’t dying, but he’d thrown up everything she gave him. His sheets were soaked with sweet and cramps worked his body into knots.

 

The next morning he had a whole conversation with Allison before Diego walked in and asked who he was talking to.

 

Diego had to call Allison to prove she was alive and Klaus’ Allison was a hallucination to get him to stop sobbing.

 

Klaus thought Ben was a hallucination for a while until he realized that he was a ghost.

 

There was a family meeting that night. Of course it was about the damn apocalypse.

 

Luther was hiding something. Something bout what happened to them after the end of the world.

 

Luther mumbled something.

 

“Wait a tick, wait a tick.” Klaus pointed a finger at Luther, too tired to do anything else. “What happened to us last time?”

 

“We died.”

 

We die? Like, everyone? Klaus felt a spike of anxiety through his chest. If this was happening, fine. He could deal with dying, but there were so many people, people who deserved so much better. People who deserved to live, and a few of them were sitting in this room with him.

 

“Fuck, I’m not high enough for this shit.”

 

Life is a fucking nightmare.

 

“Hey, Klaus?” Ben said later.

 

Klaus hummed.

 

“Luther’s getting wasted as shit. You should go check on him.”

 

Klaus did. Going down the stairs as best as he can. He was doing a lot better than yesterday. He didn’t even fall!

 

Klaus had to hold a laugh when he saw Luther, surrounded by the broken glass of the liquor cabinet, stumbling around drunk.

 

“You broke into Dad’s liquor cabinet?” Luther turned around to stare of Klaus, looking dazed. “He’s gonna be so pissed!”

 

“Get dad,” Luther demanded. “He needs to answer for what he did.”

 

Klaus then noticed to other carnage that had taken place on that floor. Ripped open bags spilling broken rocks and ripped papers. Klaus didn’t have to be a genius to figure out what happened. Luther had gone to the moon and given Dad everything he could only for Dad to ignore it.

 

“Four years. I gave four years of my life to that man.”

 

“Oh, goddamnit, Dad was a stubborn prick right to the end.”

 

“Diego was right. Dad only sent me up there cause he couldn’t stand to look at me.”

 

“What? No,” Klaus’ hands fluttered around Luther’s shoulders, trying to do what he could to comfort him. “You’re our Number One remember? Yeah!”

 

Luther slumped over, looking miserable. Klaus touched his shoulders again frantically, “Woah, hey, do you want me to get Allison?”

 

“No!” Klaus flinched back. Luther had the decency to make himself a little quieter. “I don’t want her to see me like this.”

 

“Well, what do you want me to do? Come on, I’ll help you feel better! Anything you want!”

 

“I wanna-“ Luther sniffed. “I wanna be like you. I wanna be carefree.”

 

Klaus froze, an image of back alley fights flashing through his mind. A montage of himself crying in public restrooms after particularly horrible dry-spells. Pictures in his head of Dave blurry and looking scared and heart-broken in the dim light of an ambulance.

 

“No you don’t.”

 

And the next thing Klaus knew was that he’d hit the ground, his stitches protesting and more painful bruises pounded into his skin.

 

“You have to go after him! He’d do anything to save your junkie ass!” Ben had said.

 

And now Klaus was at a shitty rave. Everything he’d been wanting since his last high wore off was right in his hands.

 

“Have you tried these? They’re amazing!” Luther thrust a pill into Klaus’ face.

 

Oh no.

 

If there was anything Klaus had to do it was preventing his siblings from becoming anything like him.

 

Being a junkie was his thing, ok? None of his siblings were allowed to copy him.

 

Luther, of course, was an idiot, and Klaus died saving his dumb ass.

 

“Klaus! Look out!” Ben yelled.

 

Klaus felt blunt force to his head, and then nothing.

 

The little girl God was rude as hell. Was he allowed to say that? And she thrust him right into Dad’s company. Nice.

 

“You children always seem to blame me for everything!”

 

Well yeah. That’s usually what happens when you have abusive parents. You blame them for the shot they put you through.

 

Reginald gripped Klaus’ shoulder, looking exceptionally bitter. “Number Five has stopped the end of days.”

 

“What the hell? How?”

 

“It seems that his last mission as an assassin was unsuccessful.”

 

“Nice.”

 

Klaus woke up in the same position he died in, lying in a pool of his own blood.

 

“I’m a paramedic! Move! Get out of the way!”

 

The crowd parted to reveal Dave, frantic and wide-eyed as he recognized Klaus. Klaus smiled up at him.

 

“What’d I tell you, Davey? Simply terrible.”

 

“Klaus, oh my god!”

 

Klaus sat up.

 

“Wait, no, Klaus you should-“

 

Klaus only waved him off and stood up. “I’m alright, Davey, don’t you worry about me.”

 

Klaus walked away. Dave followed.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Uh, home? Where are you going?”

 

Dave looked affronted. “I’m going with you! You have a head injury! Someone has to make sure you don’t pass out!”

 

Klaus saw Ben give him a look. Klaus glared and looked resolutely ahead, biting the inside of his cheeks to hide a grin.

 

“You’re not even a paramedic yet anyways.”

 

“Does it matter? I’m almost there!”

 

Dave was probably right to follow him. His head was pounding and his vision was swimming. His foot hit a small rise in the sidewalk and he began to fall. Dave caught the back of his shirt and wound an arm around his waste.

 

“You ok?” he asked.

 

Klaus’ mouth went dry and he felt his face burn. “Yeah?”

 

Shit, why was he acting like a teenager with a crush like Dave hadn’t seen him naked the other day?

 

Klaus turned around in Dave’s arms. “How’d you even find me anyways?”

 

Dave smiled. It was small and flustered and pretty and Klaus was not ashamed to say that he stared at Dave’s mouth for a little too long.

 

“I- uh- I’ve been looking for you. Like, all day. Your sister has a stalker. And Diego just called Patch about an hour ago saying he couldn’t find you, and, well, I had to make sure you were okay.”

 

Dave really was too damn perfect. He was so close, Klaus could feel his breath against his face. He surged forward.

 

Dave placed a hand on his chest. “Klaus.”

 

He looked pained. Like Klaus had just hurt him, and he did look so genuinely hurt that Klaus had to look down to make sure he hadn’t stepped on his feet.

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Davey, I’m sober!”

 

Dave pulled back, looking Klaus straight in the face. Klaus stared back.

 

“Oh, Klaus,” Dave’s face slowly pulled into a grin. “You are!”

 

“Well, what can I say, baby. You just bring out the good in me.”

 

Klaus took his face in his hands and kissed him.

 

He really felt like it should have been bad. His head hurt and he was weak with withdrawal. Dave was shaking from anxiety and the cold. Shit, Klaus was probably shaking too and didn’t realize it.

 

But it wasn’t bad. It was really good. And maybe it was because he loved Dave, but it was definitely one of the best he’s ever had even if it was super fucking vanilla.

 

Dave was sweet. He was gentle and soft, but he was still holding Klaus up, and it was kind of hot.

 

Dave pulled away first. “Let’s get you home,” he said against his lips.

 

“I love you,” Klaus replied.

 

Maybe it wasn’t the most appropriate thing to say in the moment, but give Klaus a break. He just died and then kissed the love of his life for the first time.

 

After knowing the man for three years.

 

God that’s depressing.

 

Dave brushed a thumb across Klaus’ cheek. His voice cracked with emotion when he whispered, “I love you, too.”

 

Dave escorted him home, slowly, gently, supporting him with an arm around his waist.

 

Klaus caught him staring more than once, but he wasn’t above admitting to himself that he was just as bad.

 

Dave even opened the door for him. Who says chivalry is dead?

 

“Klaus? Diego said you were- oh my god, you’re bleeding!” Vanya’s hand hovered around Klaus’ head.

 

“I’m alright, V,” Klaus laughed as he waved Vanya away. “Just a little headache.” He cackled at his own joke. “A headache! Ha! Dave, did you hear what I just said?”

 

“Klaus!” Grace entered the room looking for all the world like she was having fits with worry. “Oh, dear, your head. Come with me, I’ll fix you right up.”

 

As Klaus followed Grace away, Dave latched on to his hand.

 

“What are you doing?” Klaus asked. “I don’t want to take another night from you. You should go home. Throw a party. Klaus didn’t want Dave to go home, but shit, Dave had done more than enough for him over the years. He forced himself to smile. “I’ll call you, but you need to get some sleep.”

 

Dave only held on tighter. “I’m not leaving you, of course I’m not. I want to stay with you. I’m worried, yes, but I want to be with you.”

 

Ugh.

 

Why did Dave have to be so damn sweet.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey brief description of anxiety and implied toxic relationship. Be warned.

Patch was one of the leading detectives of the Masked Killers case.

 

It made sense that she’d be in charge of clearing the motel they were captured in.

 

The kid at the front desk was interviewed by Beaman, thankfully, and Patch hadn’t even had to see him.

 

As she collected the ropes that had bound Klaus to the chair sitting in the middle of the room, she wondered how long she had before the ball dropped.

 

Patch wasn’t a rule-breaker.

 

As a child, she was afraid of consequences. She’d seen terrible consequences follow her trouble-maker of an older brother, and swore to never be like him. Whether it was detention, grounding, or even no dessert after dinner that night. Even the smallest punishment made her upset. It meant she was in trouble. It meant she had broken a rule and that was bad.

 

The fear of punishments followed her until it wasn’t just about rules and breaking them.

 

In middle school it became something else entirely. Something unreasonable but so real that it began to control every aspect of her life.

 

“If I stay outside past eight o’clock, I’ll get in trouble” became “If I chew my food too loudly, I’ll get in trouble”.

 

She was afraid to eat in front of people. She was afraid to speak to her teachers and parents. She was afraid to even leave the house to do anything other than school because something would happen at any wrong move she made.

 

Her father never noticed. He was happy with his quiet, obedient daughter after having such a difficult son. Her mother, on the other hand, was concerned.

 

Patch’s father would not be convinced that anything was wrong with his daughter, unwilling accept that his perfect little girl was in a harmful state of mind, so he ignored the issues. Patch’s mother pressed them, and hard.

 

They ended up divorcing when Patch was thirteen. At the time, if felt like the worst punishment, and she couldn’t figure out what she did wrong. She knew it had to be something, even if her mother insisted it wasn’t her fault. Looking back, it was definitely for the best. Her father was distant and harmful by his refusal to understand Patch and how her mind worked and what problems she was having. After the divorce, Patch was able to go to therapy. She was able to get better. She had healthy coping mechanisms and was in a good headspace now.

 

But there was always the lingering nervousness in the back of her mind.

 

Right now? It was front and center. She could feel her pulse thrumming through her body and sweat starting to prickle at her neck.

 

But it wasn’t just the anxiety that had it’s hold on her. It was the guilt.

 

If she got away with what she- everyone involved- did last night, Diego would take the fall. Even if he didn’t, which he probably wouldn’t, since most of the people on this case liked him, there would, officially, be gaps in the case.

 

Patch thought about this every time she let Diego go. She’d lay in bed, awake, wondering if what she did was really the right thing. Wondering if Diego would go on to hurt someone who didn’t deserve it, all because Patch just couldn’t let him go.

 

She really couldn’t let him go, and he knew it too.

 

The sun peeked from behind a cloud and into Patch eyes. She made a frustrated noise and moved away from the window as best she could. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to move the curtain at this point, since this was technically still a crime scene. The window took up most of the wall. It was almost impossible to get out of the way of the sun without knocking over something important.

 

It was then that Patch heard a strange noise, like the crackling of a fire. She looked up, afraid that something had actually caught on fire.

 

She almost shrieked as she saw a boy standing, impeccably dressed in a schoolboy outfit, in the middle of the room.

 

“Hello!” The boy gave Patch a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

 

“What the hell?” Patch exclaimed. “How’d you get in here?”

 

“Teleportation,” the boy deadpanned, but Patch didn’t think he was being sarcastic. “Relax. I just need to find something of mine and then I’m out of your hair.”

 

He began looking around. Under the beds. In the closet. In the bathroom. It took a moment for Patch to break out of whatever stupor she was in.

 

“Hey, no, you can’t be in here at all!”

 

The boy looked at her with his all-too-intense, dead eyes. “I can be anywhere at any time.”

 

Patch pinched the bridge of her nose, clinging to what was left of her professional manner before annoyance could take hold of her. “Listen, young man-“

 

The boy laughed, short and loud. “If you knew who you were talking to, you most certainly would not be calling me young, detective.”

 

Patch’s mind reeled.

 

There were people who looked much younger than their age. She had often been told she looked much younger than her thirty-two years. She never cared much, just said “thank you” and moved on.

 

There was no mistake, though. This boy’s, this child’s, face was still round and soft. His body was too skinny for his height. His voice hadn’t even dropped yet. It had only taken the deeper little boy voice that was a little rough around the edges.

 

But teenage boys move awkwardly, not quite growing into themselves. Teenage boys speak monotone and raw and unsure.

 

This kid’s movements were fluid and deliberate. His voice was guarded and confident.

 

Patch could imagine this boy as an old man when he hadn’t even reached his last growth spurt yet.

 

“Who are you?” Patch asked as the boy had pulled the grate off the air vent.

 

“Ah!” The boy exclaimed as he pulled a briefcase from the vent. “Here we are!”

 

He took the briefcase by the handle and walked so confidently out of the room that Patch didn’t think about what just happened until he was halfway out the door.

 

“Hey! You can’t take that!”

 

The boy turned his head to look at her, his otherwise blank expression was vaguely amused. “Well, you see, this is mine. I don’t mean to be an inconvenience. Have a nice day,” The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk as he added, “young lady!”

 

Patch chased the boy out the door, but as she turned the corner, he was gone.

 

“What the hell?” she whispered to herself.

 

Just then, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

 

She whipped around to find Diego frowning at her.

 

“Woah!” He raised his hands, palms facing Patch, and chuckled.

 

“What the hell are you doing here, Diego?”

 

“Don’t sound so upset!” Diego smirked. The lines in his brow softened and he went quiet.

 

Patch felt her chest ache.

 

She loved Diego. She really did, but-

 

Their relationship had been long. It had been good. It had been really good. But, towards the end, Diego had become rash. He had started his vigilante run. And Patch-

 

Patch had reported him. Patch got him in trouble. Patch had got him kicked out of the force and evicted from his apartment.

 

She had been new to the force. She had thought she was doing the right thing.

 

She wasn’t convinced Diego ever forgave her for that, what with all of his talk about how she should do things “his way”.

 

Patch missed him. She missed them. But what they had right now? What was currently happening between them? This lingering stress about what Diego was doing? It wasn’t good for her.

 

It wasn’t fair to her.

 

“I wanted to apologize,” Diego said.

 

Patch felt her jaw clench. How dare he? Why couldn’t he just understand that his brother was hurting? The man had almost died, for Christ’s sake!

 

“And I already told you, it wasn’t Klaus’ fault.”

 

“I’m not apologizing for him. I’m apologizing for me.”

 

Patch wasn’t convinced that Diego was being genuine. Maybe he was, or maybe he was just trying to put himself back in Patch’s good graces again.

 

But she’d hear him out. She felt she owed him that at least.

 

“Ok,” she nodded.

 

“Ok.” Diego nodded back. “I’m sorry that I was being disrespectful to you. You saved my brother and all I did was express how much you shouldn’t have and how y-your j-j-ju-“

 

Diego stopped and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes for a moment, mouthing words to himself before opening his eyes again.

 

“-how your judgement was bad,” he finished. “My brother could have died and you saved him. I was being shitty to you and him. That was my problem and I’m sorry.”

 

Patch nodded. “But you know I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

 

Diego was very emotionally distant, andhe upset someone, he didn’t want to address it, too scared of confrontation to risk it.

 

It caused a strain in their relationship that wasn’t good for either of them.

 

“I know,” Diego answered, looking guilty.

 

Patch had a feeling that Diego meant more than the issue with Klaus.

 

He was getting better with that. Emotions. Confrontation. Apologizing. Taking criticism.

 

“How is he?” Patch asked.

 

Diego smiled. “He’s home and he’s okay. That’s what matters.”

 

He was definitely a lot better than he was a few years ago. Patch was proud of him.

 

Maybe that was the first step. Maybe if they both kept working on themselves, they could have a better relationship. They could be better people together.

 

Patch hoped so.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long but I got sidetracked by the Ineffable Husbands ship watch Good Omens y’all

Dave’s back hurt.

 

Maybe that was his own fault for putting himself in the position that he was in, but there wasn’t much he could do about that.

 

His upper back was pressed against the metal bars of a hospital bed. His lower back was against the bed itself, causing his back to curve in an uncomfortable way that he’d definitely feel in the next few days.

 

Still, he remained stiff, afraid to disturb Klaus, who was insistent on keeping Dave there for as long as possible, even in his sleep.

 

His head rested on Dave’s stomach and his arms wrapped around Dave’s torso.

 

The gash on Klaus’ head was cleaned and bandaged. Grace, who was very much alive, apparently, insisted on giving him an IV and had removed it at some point in the night. According to Diego, he’d been sobersince the kidnapping. He was fine.

 

But Dave wasn’t so sure.

 

Physically? Maybe. The best he’s been in years, if the drug habit was anything to go by. Aside from possible complications of being sober, well, he probably wasn’t dying anytime soon.

 

Mentally? Well, that’s been questionable for a very, very long time. Dave wasn’t naive. Klaus obviously had serious issues and definitely needed professional help, not that Dave would force him to get help. That was Klaus’ choice.

 

Dave was more worried about Klaus’ emotional well-being.

 

Last night had certainly been eventful.

 

Dave had woken up around noon, probably later, by the sound of his phone ringing.

 

“Dave!” Eudora was yelling at him from the other end.

 

“Wha-yeah?”

 

“Dave you need to find Klaus, now.”

 

“What? What happened?” Dave scrambled out of bed, stumbling to his closet and snatching a shirt off a hanger.

 

“I don’t know! Diego says he’s missing. I’mlooking around uptown, if you go downtown we’ll cover more ground that way. Hurry up! We need to find him, now!”

 

That woke Dave up. “What?”

 

Of course, Klaus could always be in danger. Dave was always conscious of that fact, but, so urgently that Diego had called Eudora? And Eudora was searching for him?

 

That was certainly a cause for concern.

 

Eudora sighed, the sound crackling in Dave’s ear. “Their sister has a stalker, apparently. Some kinda grudge against the family. They have reason to believe he’s planning a murder.”

 

“A stalker?” Dave had put the phone on speaker so he could get dressed and talk to Patch at the same time. “I mean, their sister is a celebrity, isn’t she? Are you sure it’s not that?”

 

“No!” Eudora replied, exasperated. “The other sister. A guy she was dating was being-“ Eudora sighed again- “a fucking creep, apparently.”

 

Dave cursed, pulling on his shoes and grabbing his phone. “Ok!” he shouted. “Ok, I’m going! I’ll tell you if I find him!” He hung up.

 

Dave, lying in the hospital with Klaus, winced when he realized that he did not, in fact, contact Eudora.

 

It didn’t matter anyways. Diego probably did as soon as they walked in.

 

It was a long search, and it was dark by the time he walked into a rave to see a crowd forming.

 

Maybe it was an off-chance that it was Klaus, but it was still a chance.

 

It was Klaus.

 

He was there, bleeding on the floor.

 

He was also alive, thank god.

 

Dave was always gonna be haunted by that memory, but right now, he was more worried about what happened after that.

 

When Klaus had kissed him.

 

Waking up in Klaus’ arms, his head cleared, guilt rose in his chest.

 

Klaus was injured and going through withdrawals. He was tired and stumbling along and had kissed Dave on a whim.

 

Dave kissed back.

 

It wasn’t the right thing to do. He should have pushed him back. He should have done something.

 

He couldn’t help but feel that he’d taken advantage of Klaus, even if it had felt perfectly fine at the time.

 

Dave was distracted from his thought when he saw Klaus’ eyelashes flutter.

 

Warmth flooded in his chest when Klaus smiled at him.

 

“Hey,” Klaus whispered.

 

“Hey,” Dave whispered back. “It’s morning.”

 

Klaus made a quiet sound of celebration. “Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout.”

 

“Nothing much,” Dave laughed. “Just that your dad could have invested in more comfortable hospital beds.”

 

Klaus laughed. Or hissed, more like it. “That asshole invested in everything but comfort.”

 

Dave ran a hand through Klaus’ hair for the last time before- Well, before whatever happens.

 

“Can we talk? About last night?”

 

Klaus froze, looking resolutely ahead of him. “Yeah, sure!” Klaus’ voice was as airy , but his body was stiff, and his face held a complicated expression that Dave couldn’t place.

 

Dave rubbed his back, “Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Klaus murmured. “I’m so, so sorry.”

 

“You’re sorry? What for?”

 

And just like that, he came to life. His arms gesticulating, expressing, and almost wacking Dave in the face.

 

“Look, I know that what I did was stupid and maybe I shouldn’t‘ve done it, but tbh”- instead of pronouncing the letters in “tbh” individually, he sounded out the acronym; Dave was surprised he understood it- “I don’t regret it, but you might, so-“

 

“Klaus, sugar, you did nothing wrong. What are you talking about?”

 

“I-uh- I kissed you, remember? Stupid of me, I know, but I am known for making bad choices and I’m not passing up my fame now!”

 

“No, Klaus, that wasn’t- you had a head injury, you weren’t sound of mind.” Dave ignored Klaus’ giggle and interruption of “That’s old news, Dave”, “If anything, Klaus, I was out of line for kissing you.”

 

Klaus stilled and gave Dave a strange look. “What do you mean? You didn’t do shit wrong.”

 

Dave ran a thumb across Klaus’ cheekbone. “I kissed you back. ‘Was wrong, babe. It was taking advantage.”

 

Klaus flopped over dramatically. “I kissed you, you didn’t kiss me. How the fuck is that taking advantage?”

 

“You weren’t sound of-“ Dave was cut off by a particularly loud exasperated sigh from Klaus.

 

“Nooooo, Davey, I’m never sound of mind, stop worrying about it.”

 

“I never stop worrying, sugar.”

 

Klaus frowned at him, sticking out his bottom lip.

 

“How about this.” Dave took Klaus’ hands in his, awkwardly, due to their position, holding Klaus’ hands aloft. “I’m sorry for taking advantage of you, Klaus. Could you ever forgive me?”

 

Klaus grinned at him. “Don’t think I haven’t, babe.”

 

Klaus let his head fall back onto Dave’s stomach. “Love you,” he whispered.

 

Dave smiled to himself. “I love you, too.”


End file.
